on my way

ON MY WAY

I board the train with no ticket,

No map, no final stop in mind.

The tracks stretch endless,

Curving through landscapes

Of sorrow and joy,

Hope and despair.

At each station, people rise,

Some stepping off into anger,

Some lost in the alleys of grief.

Others linger at love, at longing,

At places where they think

They are meant to stay.

And some, after years in the wrong place,

Climb back aboard,

Carrying only the weight

Of what they've left behind.

I too have pressed my hands

Against the glass,

Wondering if this was my stop,

If I belonged in the arms of bitterness,

If I should stay in the city of regret.

But the train keeps moving.

And I learn

Not to leave - not to cling,

But to watch, to feel,

To welcome the ones returning,

To wave to those who still must go.

There is no final station -

No place where everything makes sense,

Only the rhythm of the wheels,

The ever-changing view,

And the quiet peace

Of knowing I am always

On my way.